


Three Months

by yukiawison



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Multi, Thanksgiving, The Barns, post trk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: Adam was in possession of a great many things he'd never had.(The gang comes back to Henrietta for Thanksgiving.)





	

"Why exactly is there a bunt pan in your closet?" Blue currently had her back to him, on her hands and knees before a mess of shoes, brightly colored fabrics, and abandoned glue guns.

"My closet has become the multipurpose storage area according to my mother," she said, turning to him with a skeptical look. "Here," she pulled several belts and a bedazzled necktie from the closet's depths, freeing the pan. "Now we can get started."

A bunt cake at Thanksgiving seemed like an odd tradition to Adam Parrish, but then again, he hadn't ever been subject to a real Thanksgiving.

"I've noticed lots of little changes since I got back," Blue said with a frown. "Orla's hotline gets twice as many calls, Nino's got a new sign, and everyone thinks they're allowed to throw whatever they want into my room while I'm on a three month road trip."

Something in his chest tightened. "Three months is a long time."

She dusted off the pan and looked up at him, irritation melting into concern. "Yeah, it is. I missed you. We all missed you. I'm glad you're here Adam."

It was the first time he'd been back in Henrietta since he started at Columbia. It was the first time she'd been back since she'd taken off with Gansey and Henry to explore the unexplored.

Now everyone was back: Blue, Gansey, Henry, Adam...and Ronan, who hadn't left.

Adam leaned back against the wall. He was seated on Blue's bed, perched carefully as to not disturb her mismatch of quilts, comforters, and old magazines. Despite the clutter imposed by the rest of 300 Fox Way, he was wary of intruding when it came to Blue's room. Her room felt like her. She occupied it more than Adam had ever occupied any space. Except, perhaps, Cabeswater.

He'd been calling, texting, and Skyping Ronan daily since he left but as of late things between them had gotten quiet. Ronan had been cutting calls short and in some instances, not even picking up. Gansey had met him at the airport and Blue had convinced him to aid in the menu planning, so he hadn't had the chance to see him yet. He likely wouldn't until Thanksgiving at the Barns. (Blue's house was too cramped and the kitchen at Monmouth was deemed unsanitary.)

"It's going to be alright," she said, breaking him from his worry.

"What do you mean it's...?"

"This bunt cake is going to kick ass. You'll see."

He blushed. "Yeah, I'm sure it will. What else do we need?" He looked back to her somewhat illegible list.

"Gansey and Henry are at the store," she said, grinning. He imagined the two of them wandering aimlessly through the aisles, Gansey no doubt taking canned cranberries and green beans way too seriously. "Can you grab the crockpot from the counter? Ronan said he didn't have one."

Adam nodded, slipping out of Blue's room and into the kitchen. 300 Fox Way's kitchen was the only kitchen he knew well. Persephone had often sat him at the wobbly table and laid out her cards to test him. He'd been handed countless concoctions of foul smelling herbs and blackened tea leaves in this kitchen. On several occasions he'd joined the Sargent family for dinner, sandwiched between Blue and her mother the nights they wouldn't let him leave before eating. He scooped up the crockpot and stood there for a moment, taking in cluttered counter and dishes piled high in the sink. When he left, Adam Parrish wasn't sure he'd miss Henrietta at all. Now, standing in a kitchen that was never his, he thought maybe he had been wrong.

"They're here, are you ready?" Blue called from the doorway. Gansey was standing there grinning, face flushed from the cold, glasses lopsided and hair overgrown. Something in his smile, in the way he carried himself, even in his hands as he motioned them to the Pig had changed in the three months since Adam had seen him. He couldn't explain quite what it was, only that it was good and probably Blue's doing.

"Parrish, how's the Ivy League treating you?" Henry inquired from the backseat of the Camaro once the army of grocery bags had been shifted enough for Blue to wedge her box of additional supplies into the trunk. 

"It's great," he said lamely, only half lying. Columbia was nice. His dorm room was about the size of his place at St. Agnes, and his roommate was rarely home so it was usually quiet and at times even comfortable. It was nice not having to worry about his landlord shutting off the heat.

In fact, he'd made quite a few friendly acquaintances (friends would likely always be difficult for Adam) on his floor. He'd been invited to parties and welcomed into study groups and sightseeing tours during welcome week. Though he much preferred to wander the city alone: slipping clandestinely through museum exhibits, and craning his neck with the other tourists to admire the tall buildings and neon lights that lit up puddles when it rained.

His professors liked him. In crowded lecture halls where no one knew who he was or what he came from, it was easier to speak up. For the first time the words he studied took true meaning. At Aglionby, petrified by the consequences of failure, he studied for his life. With a full ride scholarship and a future that no longer seemed nauseous, bruised, and tobacco stained, he was taking small steps into the open. 

Of course fear was so much a part of Adam Parrish's mortal existence that some nights he made his own. Nights before exams he'd study until his hands shook and his vision blurred, stomach churning as he fabricated worst possible scenarios: fail this exam, fail the class, lose my scholarship, get thrown out of the dorms, back to Henrietta. The reality was that his Ivy League work load was nothing compared to balancing three jobs, the Glendower search, and his classes at Aglionby. He just didn't know how to relax...so he didn't.

And then there was Ronan. The first month they had talked a lot, more than they'd ever talked in person. Ronan knew the names of all his professors, the content of all his classes, everything about the few parties he'd attended, acquaintances he'd made, panics he'd fallen into. It surprised him when Ronan had picked up, exchanged pleasantries in his usual gruff monosyllables, and then without much beating around the bush said: "Parrish, tell me everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" He'd replied, knees tucked to his chest as he sat on his bed.

"How is your room? How are the people? What are your classes like? What do you hate about it? What did you eat today? Everything, Parrish." It came out like more of an order than a request, and Adam was about to fire off something mean about privacy and being busy when Ronan's tone changed.

"I mean...what I'm trying to say it that I want to know you. I know you don't think you can be known, but you can, and I want to."

Neither of them had been much on talking. It had seemed strange to start then, when they were so far from each other, when Adam couldn't read his expressions only his voice across airwaves. "Okay," he had said. "Okay but you have to let me know you too."

Slowly, it had gone from strange to nice. Sometimes he'd sit in the student lounge late at night when he didn't want to bother his roommate and listen to Ronan talk about Opal and whatever he'd grown or dreamed up that week. On more than one occasion one of them had fallen asleep to the sound of the other's voice. 

The nicer it got, the more frustrating it was when things didn't sync up: when Adam called when Ronan was out, or when Ronan called on nights Adam was so swamped with work or his own irrationality that he either snapped or suggested he call back later.

Closer to midterms these instances had increased exponentially, and in all honesty it wasn't school so much as it was figuring out what to do with his new life. Adam was now in possession of many things he'd never had: economic stability, pleasant accommodations, a relationship that made him happy in a dizzying sort of way, a chance to reinvent himself. Figuring out how to exist with all of these things was a job in and of itself. Though to say "Sorry this whole happiness and success thing is making me upset," would be ridiculous and probably and oversimplification. 

It wasn't a huge shock that Ronan's calls had become few and far between. It wasn't a shock but it made the Ivy League considerably less great. 

"I think we all have some catching up to do," Gansey said authoritatively. He glanced over at Adam excitedly as he slid into shotgun. "And I'm sure we'll do so over this collaboratively crafted meal right Jane?"

"Yes Dick, against my better judgment I'm going to let you help." She smoothed her hair from her eyes and leaned her head on Henry's shoulder. The three of them were as comfortable with each other as they were in the Camaro. He hadn't developed that kind of physical closeness with Ronan yet. "You're not allowed to start a fire in Ronan's kitchen."

The Barns looked like a spot the difference drawing of a regular farm. Neat rows of tilled soil joined well-constructed chicken coops that hadn't existed the last time Adam had been there. Oddly shaped metal contraptions stood along side a standard tractor. Deer-like creatures with oddly colored spots and twisted antlers moved among cows on the patchy grass. 

"Lynch has been busy," Blue said, leaning forward to rest her chin on the top of Gansey's seat.

Adam knocked on the door, his heart hammering far too loudly in his chest.

Opal answered. She looked up at him with wide eyes and a bright smile, gaze flitting down to the scarf around his neck. Ronan had sent him several of Opal's creations. Recently she'd taught herself to knit, though the scarf she'd gifted him had quite a few holes. He wore it anyway.

Without a word she hugged him, well, his legs since she only went up to his knees. When the others joined him at the doorstep she turned and shrieked something in Latin.

"Parrish." Adam heard him before he saw him. He looked the same, a little more tired maybe, hair starting to grow out, but altogether the Ronan Lynch of three months ago. He didn't look angry with him, but he didn't look particularly happy either.

"Hi," he replied, because everyone was watching them and he didn't know what else to say.

"Happy Thanksgiving Lynch. Long time no see." Blue, evidently sensing the tension, cut in.

Ronan turned and smiled at her, arms crossed over his chest and eyes glinting in their teasing fashion. "Same trouble as usual Maggot?"

"Fewer near death experiences," she said, putting her hand on her hip. "But yeah, more of the same."

Adam got a little lost in Ronan's presence. He'd forgotten how sharp he looked, how restless he seemed in every moment he stood still. 

"Well this food isn't going to cook itself. Unless you already dreamed us up a meal."

"And miss Gansey's cooking attempt?"

"I haven't even started anything and you're calling it an attempt?" Gansey protested.

"Then prove him wrong honey," Henry said, slinking an arm around his waist and pulling him toward himself. Blue grinned, took Henry's hand, and led the two of them past Ronan and into the kitchen. When Opal tried to follow them Ronan squatted down so they were eye level and muttered something that seemed like a gentle advisement to keep out of trouble. He pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. She smiled and bounded off toward the kitchen.

"How was your flight?" Ronan asked at the same time as Adam asked "How is Opal?"

"Good, a little crowded," he said, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets. Ronan hadn't moved from the doorway.

"She's good. Opal's a quick learner," he said. He gestured to the scarf with a smirk. "She's glad you're here."

"Are you glad I'm here?" He mumbled. This felt wrong. Even now that they were in the same room they were far apart.

"Parrish."

"Look, I understand. It was good while it lasted," he could feel his face going red. "I thought I could handle long distance but I guess I..."

"Parrish what are you talking about?"

Adam looked up at him. He'd moved closer, into Adam's space. 

"You want to break up with me."

"No," Ronan put his hands on Adam's waist and let them rest there, gently. Three months had been a long time. "Adam I don't want to break up with you," he said gruffly. 

"It's my fault. Everything that's going wrong is my fault and I'm sorry. I don't know how to be happy. I fucking suck at being happy," his voice was shaking. He felt like an idiot and about 13. He was being stupid. He was saying things that didn't make sense. He was making excuses. 

"You're happy?"

Adam looked up at him. God, Ronan Lynch had freckles. The sun had brought them out. He looked a hell of a lot softer standing here now. No sharp eyes or jutting shoulders, just soft flannel and curls and freckles. He looked open. Open wasn't something you expected from Ronan Lynch. 

"I'm...trying."

"It's not your fault Parrish. It's just a little hard right now. That's okay. This is the one fucking thing I can be level headed about you know?" He grinned at him. 

"Why?"

"I know you like me. And I like you a lot Parrish. We're not breaking up because you're bad at using the phone sometimes. We're not breaking up because you're bad at being happy 'cause so am I. You're stuck with me Parrish."

The nervous, queasy feeling that had been twisting in stomach like vines twisted around his neck in his nightmares relaxed. For once in the past three months, maybe in his entire life, his instincts didn't insist on fear. 

"You make me feel safe," he choked out before he could stop himself. 

Ronan looked surprised for a moment before melting into a gentle smile. "Can I show you something?"

"Um...yeah, is it okay to leave them alone in there?" The banging from the kitchen area had increased in frequency, and Blue was either yelling or singing something at Gansey over hysterical laughter from Henry. 

"Dick's more capable than he lets on. He used to make us chocolate chip pancakes."

Adam was struck by the image of Richard Gansey III with flour on his lenses and batter on his nose. 

"Alright then, lead the way." 

The sun was already starting to set, and Adam was startled when Ronan reached for his hand. "It's dark," he said by way of explanation. "Lots of shit to trip over."

Adam led him to a precariously constructed building he was sure hadn't been there the last time. "We're not breaking up," he repeated, as he pushed open the splintering wooden door. 

Inside, Adam had to blink several times to confirm that the dreamer hadn't pulled him into one of his dreams, though he might as well have given the room's contents. 

Tilting sculptures, heavy books, ornate boxes, and impossible structures covered the floor. In one corner a structure that closely resembled his father's double wide sat dented and powerless, as if someone had hit it was a car, or perhaps hit it until his fists bled. There were decks and decks of tarot cards in one box. He picked one up and say that it depicted him: the magician on the magician card. 

"Blue and Gansey are in that deck too," he muttered. 

"What is this place?"

"It's all the stuff I dreamed when I went to bed thinking about you. Your phone calls have been a terrible influence Parrish. Opal's been begging for a puppy but all I've managed is this box of Columbia apparel with Columbia spelled wrong."

Adam looked down at the box of Culombia sweatshirts and baseball tees and grinned widely. "All of this? You dreamed all of this because you missed me?"

"We're not breaking up Parrish."

Adam bridged the gap between them and kissed Ronan, long and sweet and slow, with his arm tucked around Ronan's waist and his skin burning. It had been a long time. 

"We have to visit each other more often," Ronan said, clearing his throat when they broke away. He looked flustered. "I want to come up there and see you, and Opal too if you'll let us."

"As long as you wear the Culombia t-shirts."

"Do you want some hot chocolate?"

"Do you want to catch up?"

"Yes."

"Fuck yes Parrish."

Gansey didn't burn the mashed potatoes. Blue's tofu turkey didn't taste nearly as strange as everyone had expected. Ronan poured never ending mugs of hot chocolate (from his self-refilling hot chocolate maker.) Blue commissioned a similar device for coffee she could take to school once the Sarchengsey road trip had terminated. The end date of our trip has yet to be determined, Gansey reminded everyone. 

This felt warmer than any other Thanksgiving. Ronan's hand found Adam's under the table. Blue told the story of the first 300 Fox Way Thanksgiving bunt cake and everyone was glad this one didn't have Persephone' secret ingredient. 

Adam helped Ronan with the dishes. Ronan washed, he dried. He talked about the museums he thought Ronan would like in New York, the exhibits of strange surrealist art that made him laugh and think of Ronan and his farm of oddities. He talked about his history class and the trees in Central Park. Ronan talked about the normal crops and dream crops and teaching Opal to read and how he'd started to sell things at the farmer's market. 

They talked so much Adam was surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly two. The other three had gone to bed hours ago. Opal was dozing on the couch. 

"It's late," Ronan said. "Do you want to go to bed."

"No," he replied. "I want to stay here with you."

"We can sleep in the same bed Parrish."

He laughed. "I know that I just..." his voice softened into a whisper. "I'm worried it will all go away when I fall asleep. When today's over I have one fewer day in Henrietta."

"What's wrong with night in Henrietta?" Ronan asked, and he almost sounded sly. He kissed him. "My Ivy League boyfriend won't go to sleep. My tired, gorgeous, magician, Ivy League boyfriend doesn't want to come to bed with me." 

This whole spiel would sound ridiculous if anyone else was saying it, but Ronan Lynch, with his sandpaper voice and eyes that could kill (even when they were soft and sleepy) made a very convincing argument. 

Ronan tossed him one of his t-shirts and made room for him on the mattress beside him. The whole room smelled like cinnamon and earth. If he took one of Ronan's shirts back with him he might be able to take the scent of the Barns too. 

"Do you think Gansey will make chocolate chip pancakes in the morning?" Adam asked.

**Author's Note:**

> @myself: finish things you started in November.


End file.
